


Questions of Guilt and of Obligation (Questions of Love, and of Eternity)

by help_me_no



Series: Kings and Monsters and Men [4]
Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Recovery, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29755176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/help_me_no/pseuds/help_me_no
Summary: How it is that Asterius, bull of Minos, comes to fight alongside Theseus, king of Athens, in the arena of Elysium.Or, slow steps taken in healthy communication between the champions. The building of a friendship between two people grappling with trauma, and guilt, and poor socialization. Asterius slowly falls a little in love.
Relationships: Asterius | The Minotaur & Theseus (Hades Video Game), Asterius | The Minotaur/Theseus (Hades Video Game)
Series: Kings and Monsters and Men [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125851
Comments: 21
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably don't need to have read the previous works in this series (although obviously I recommend it!). This is set somewhat early in the champions' afterlife--they've established themselves as friends but they're still working some stuff out.
> 
> Warning for some arena violence and minor allusions to injury and gore (though I don't think it's enough to warrant the official archive warning tag), and some unhealthy coping mechanisms/self-imposed desensitization.

Theseus is oddly breathtaking when he fights in the arena. Asterius had been reluctant to spectate at first, but there was still a part of him that felt he _should_ go, regardless of his wants.

The first time Theseus announced he had a real match, and not merely training, Asterius had dutifully stood up to follow him, and Theseus had looked up into his face and frowned at whatever it was he found there.

“You need not come,” he had said.

Asterius had shaken his head, and Theseus’s frown had deepened, but he only asked once whether Asterius was sure.

“Yes, my king,” Asterius had said, and for the first time in a while, a genuine echo of unhappiness slid over Theseus’s face at the title. But he had not pushed it, and Asterius had followed.

When they arrive at the arena, Theseus pulls aside a shade that apparently serves as some sort of attendant, and speaks in a low voice to them as the trio walk through narrow hallways beneath the stands. The shade’s somewhat hazy face looks puzzled, but they nod, and dart off.

“Asterius!” Theseus raises his voice back to his usual levels as they enter a small chamber with benches and shelves on the walls.

“Would you prefer to spectate from the stands, or here in my antechamber? The stands will be a better view, but they are loud and crowded! No one will bother you here, and you would be able to leave easily at any time. And though you can see out the door, others cannot see in! Or, of course, I can get you a seat in one of the boxes if you’d like! I have developed quite a reputation through my success in informal matches, and I’m sure I would not be denied! But while it would be private in that you would not have company you would still be... very public and visible.”

Asterius peers carefully through the massive translucent gate that opens up to the arena, up at the stands and the box seats. The shades of Elysium have gotten marginally more used to Asterius’s presence after Theseus’s repeated excursions by his side, but the thought of sitting there, in full view, makes Asterius’s stomach churn.

“I will stay here.”

“Very well!” Theseus gives Asterius a big, showy grin, but his gaze is serious. “If you need anything, you need only ring the bell, and an attendant will aid you however they can!”

Asterius hadn’t noticed the shade return, but Theseus apparently had. The shade nods at Theseus, who beams.

“I trust you will afford Asterius every courtesy you would to me! You have always been helpful and conscientious, so I have great faith in you!”

The shade nods again, and Theseus clasps their hands in his. Asterius watches in faint interest as Theseus inquires after the shade’s family, and continues to maintain conversation even as the shade helps him change from a casual chiton into light armor.

Finally, a great bell clangs, and the shade hands Theseus a pink-tipped spear and a short sword. Theseus beams at the shade, and then turns to look at Asterius. His expression is odd, and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but the gate slides open, and Theseus turns after the briefest pause, holding his spear aloft to raucous cheers. The shade bows to Theseus’s retreating back, then to Asterius, before leaving. Both doors slide shut, leaving Asterius alone.

The first half of Theseus’s fight makes Asterius feel sick. Even through the closed gate he can smell the stench of blood, he can hear the sickening squelch of blade in flesh, the crack of bone, the screaming of the crowd. Asterius clenches his fists against his thighs, and forces himself to watch.

But then he hears Theseus’s bright laughter, and he is flung back to the moment in the labyrinth, where he looked down at a small man, drenched in blood red and pale buttery gold, and that man had looked back, and beamed up at Asterius through bloody teeth.

Asterius forces himself now to watch the competitors’ faces, and not the way spilled blood soaks the dirt. The other fighter does not wear the same brazen delight as Theseus, but occasionally he or Theseus will strike an impressive blow, and he’ll grin.

It still sits heavy in Asterius stomach, but it allows him enough distance to actually pay attention to Theseus’s skill. He’s known Theseus was in a different league from any other he had fought when they met in the labyrinth, but now, armed, Theseus is a marvel. The other fighter too, is more impressive than any Asterius had previously encountered, but he doesn’t compare to Theseus, and eventually his sword clatters off to the side and he falls back onto the ground.

Theseus plants his foot on the opponent’s chest, and points the tip of his spear at the other man’s bare throat. Asterius steals himself for the killing blow, but instead the other man throws up his hands with a wry grin.

“I yield!”

Theseus beams down at him, drops the sword in his off hand, and offers it to help pull the man to his feet. They grin, hands clasped, and the opponent grips Theseus’s shoulder before jogging out of the arena. Theseus holds his arms high and the crowd, which had made a few noises of confusion earlier, erupts into cheers.

When Theseus returns to the antechamber, he looks at Asterius’s balled fists, and his face twists unhappily, but he does not comment. Instead he plasters on a smile and suggests he needs a bath, and would Asterius like to join him?

They enter separate rooms to wipe themselves clean before they soak in the public bath. When they reunite, Theseus smells clean, and Asterius has to admit that he relaxes when the sharp tang of iron is gone from the air. The public bath has a faint herbal smell, tinged with the faintest whiffs of a dozen different bodies, and the chatter is a pleasant buzz.

The bath is, in all senses, a balance of almost-neutral. The underlying amalgamation of multiple sights and sounds and smells blurs into white noise. Theseus maintains a steady stream of conversation and does not mention the arena. The other shades largely ignore them. The water is pleasantly hot, and the idle scrape of Theseus’s fingernails on Asterius’s arm is soothing, perhaps because Theseus doesn’t seem to notice he’s doing it. 

* * *

Asterius realizes a few weeks later that Theseus doesn’t mention when he has a fight in the arena anymore. He’ll talk about them in the abstract, or ones in the far future, or ones in the past, and he doesn’t avoid the topic if someone asks, but he never tells Asterius when he’s about to _go_ for a fight.

He’ll tell Asterius he’s going to the arena, and Asterius always assumes that means training. Early in their acquaintance, Asterius had accompanied Theseus for training, and it’d been largely uninteresting. He’d initially gone, and stayed, because he did not know what to do when he wasn’t by Theseus’s side, but they’d moved past that point. Asterius is comfortable enough now to wander Elysium alone, and spend his time exploring instead of watching Theseus smack a wooden dummy with a wooden stick.

But Asterius had thought the fights were different. They were Important to Theseus, and so he was sure he should spectate them, despite his discomfort. That’s why he’d gone that first time. And he’d intended to go again. The first few times he finds out that Theseus had a fight after the fact, he’d assumed Theseus had simply forgotten to mention it. But after a while it becomes clear that it’s intentional.

Asterius has this revelation one day, sitting in the living room of their shared home, and he frowns, staring at the wall. Theseus had just walked out the door, headed for the arena. Asterius had planned to go for a walk, and examine one of the chambers of orchards, but the knowledge that Theseus is hiding his matches forces him to reconsider. He can’t comprehend why Theseus would do so, but he knows he _should_ go, if Theseus is, indeed, having a fight today.

Then he remembers the stench of blood and the cheers of the stands and the knowledge that most arena fights are to the death. He ends up sitting in silence until Theseus returns.

Theseus smells clean, not even of sweat (as he does when he trains), and that confirms it. There was a fight, Theseus did not tell him, and then he bathed to hide the stench of blood from Asterius’s sensitive nose.

“How was your fight, my king?” Asterius asks. He doesn’t know how else to address this.

Theseus pauses in the doorway, staring at Asterius. Asterius expects him to lie.

“It was alright! Not the best opponent I have had, but worthy of my time, and she ranked quite high, so her defeat advances me quite a bit!”

Not lying then. Or at least, not when it is obvious Asterius knows the truth. He tries a different tactic.

“Hm. When is your next fight?”

Theseus goes even more still.

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

Asterius examines Theseus’s face carefully. Not a lie either, he thinks. A specific date, when previously Theseus had given none. But then, Asterius had never asked. And that realization feels... important.

Asterius looks away as he thinks, knowing that it relaxes Theseus to think he is unobserved. He watches Theseus in his wide periphery, as Theseus slowly resumes entering their home, and picks up a fig from the bowl of fruit. 

Asterius had never asked. Theseus had not told him about the fights, but Asterius had never asked. Asterius had assumed he should attend the fights because they were important to Theseus, because Theseus has saved him, and Theseus was now his friend, and therefore the fights must also be important to Asterius. And then when Theseus had not invited him to the fights and Asterius had realized, he had assumed... something he cannot articulate. That Theseus thought him weak? That Theseus was ashamed to have him there?

“Shall I come then, to your next fight?” Asterius finally asks. He has only assumed before, but perhaps that has always been the issue.

Theseus pauses, mid-bite of the fig.

“If you would like, my friend!”

Asterius ponders a moment. “I think I would rather visit the orchards tomorrow. But I should like to know when you have your fights so I may decide.”

Again Asterius expects Theseus to... do something, say something. To demand that Asterius come to the fight, or that he not. To lie about his future fights. To refuse to tell Asterius.

Instead he carefully shoves the rest of the fig in his mouth, chews, swallows, and says, “Alright.”

Theseus tells Asterius about all of his fights from there on out. Asterius does not go to them, and Theseus does not ask him to come, but that the option is there feels significant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be a long-ish oneshot but I know I use a dense writing style for this series, and then it hit 17k+ words. I have the nagging feeling the flow is a little weird because of how I've grouped up the little sections to make semi-consistent chapters, but past works have been around this length and people seem to respond to it.
> 
> Lemme know what you think! Too dense for this much? Not enough? Would you be satisfied with wildly variable chapters, that are sometimes pretty short if that means more logical section breaks (and possibly more frequent updates)? Would you prefer longer chapters, or shorter ones?
> 
> (Special shoutout to previous commenters ahunmaster and lemonmangosorbet for observations that planted a little seed that latched onto other little seeds in my head and turned into a far bigger thing than I originally intended.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asterius has an enlightening conversation about Theseus’s fights with one of the shades of Elysium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short one today since this part doesn’t quite fit at the end of last chapter or the beginning of next.

It’s several weeks later that Asterius finds himself learning about the cultivation of tomatoes from a shade who died young. She was primarily a shepherd, but the complications of animal souls in the underworld left her with a small flock, and one which largely needs no tending. Asterius had met her on a walk one day when he came face to face (or rather face to knee) with a ram, and he had stared at its long horns. He knows he saw cows and sheep and goats before he was confined to the labyrinth, because he can identify and name them, but he has no actual memories of such encounters. At the ram’s loud bleat she had jerked upright from where she must’ve been taking a nap in some tall grass, stared at him, and then burst into laughter. He still doesn’t know what it is she found funny.

This day, Asterius kneels beside her as she points out how to stake the plants, and then she blinks at him in some sort of realization.

“Doesn’t Theseus have a big fight today?”

“He does.”

“You are not spectating?”

“I have only seen his first fight, and I... am not fond of the bloodshed.”

She shrugs, and goes back to carefully pruning some leaves.

“That’s fair enough I suppose! I’ve heard he’s quite good though. I have no sense for fighting skill, but I admit the fights I’ve seen him engage in are entertaining!”

Asterius blinks in surprise at her. Once, when Asterius had asked if she was afraid of him, she’d mentioned that she’d seen a bull gore a neighbor.

The story had been a framework for her to explain that she knows he could be dangerous, but that Asterius is clearly more intelligent than a beast. She’d said she didn’t think there’d be a problem unless she, herself, did something stupid to provoke him. At the time, it’d made Asterius’s stomach roil, that she thought he’d turn violent so easily, but he’d also thought it only fair. He has since shed the ingrained guilt that of course others should expect violence from a monster like him. In turn, she has made it quite clear that she doesn’t actually expect violence from him, even should she accidentally ‘provoke’ him.

What’s important is that, after she first recalled the story of the goring, she’d had to dry heave into some bushes. That she’d enjoy bloodsport is startling.

“You’ve seen them?”

“Your friend is a good showman! I don’t like the more brutal fights in the arena, but Theseus isn’t known for that, so as long as his opponent doesn’t have a reputation, his fights are pretty fun.”

“Fun...” Asterius rolls the word in his mouth like it’s new to him. It’s not, but in this context, it almost feels like it.

“Yes, _well_ , don’t look at me like that! We’re all dead anyway, it’s not like it does any lasting damage. And no one’s in the arena who doesn’t want to be! I’ve heard conflicting rumors about whether people even feel pain in the arena, but I wouldn’t know myself. And when it comes down to it, these body-things we have don’t have much in the way of guts. Which is weird when you think about how we still feel heartbeats and breathe, but we don’t need to. Some of the hazier shades don’t even have much in the way of blood!”

She catches the blank bewildered look on Asterius’s face and reigns herself back in.

“I don’t begrudge you for disliking the arena fights, but you know I am not one for violence either! My point is just that, well, everyone there chooses to be and seems to enjoy it. And it’s always kind of fun watching people do things they enjoy. Your Theseus especially, he’s a bit obnoxious but his energy is infectious!”

That startles a laugh out of Asterius.

“That is certainly true enough.”

She beams at him, and then points out a tomato stalk that is twisting because it is getting inadequate light, and shows him how to help adjust its position to remedy it.

* * *

That night he watches as Theseus returns to their shared chambers. He’s practically glowing from the inside out, skin shining with sweat and oil, and there’s a garland of leaves draped in his hair. He beams at Asterius as he drops onto a lounge.

“You had a good fight, my king?”

“Oh it was incredible! It was a gauntlet, you see, so I got to fight three incredible warriors back to back! Well, two. The second was mediocre and his technique was sloppy, and I have no idea who let him wield a short sword when his physique is so clearly built for something heavier with less finesse! But the challenge of three fights was exhilarating even when one was so sub-par! And! _And_ Asterius, can you guess what else?”

Asterius can’t help the smile he can feel inching its way onto his face. It’s blatantly obvious from Theseus’s exuberance and the garland and the scent of nectar, but Theseus enjoys the reveal and Asterius won’t take that from him.

“I cannot, my king, what is it?”

“I bested them all! Every one of them! This success means I get to advance to fights in the main arena!”

“Congratulations,” Asterius says, and he realizes he means it. “Perhaps I should come spectate one.”

Theseus looks at him, carefully scanning his face. He looks surprised at whatever he sees, which Asterius can only assume is his genuine honesty.

“If you would like! You must let me know though, so I can put on a proper show! And, if there is anything you would, or would not like to witness, I shall have no shortage of fights to choose from to ensure it’s one you will enjoy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a part that didn’t quite make the transition from oneshot to multi-chapter as well. Next chapter is a long one though, and should go up Monday!
> 
> (Fun fact: when I posted the first chapter I was suRE it was Monday. It was, in fact, Sunday. Between that and the shortness of this one, I’m trying to make up for it by posting several other things this week.)
> 
> I adore making Theseus and Asterius friends with ordinary-people-shades, and creating no-name background casts because the alternative is having no other friends, which is bad, or only friends who are famous mythological figures which is impractical and honestly uninteresting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asterius attends the first fight after his conversation with Theseus and enjoys some surprisingly pleasant company.

The first fight Asterius _chooses_ to spectate is supposedly a big-name match with another significant hero. It is to the death, which Asterius will not admit makes him a little nervous, but Theseus reassures him that his opponent has a reputation of being fairly honorable, but not skilled enough that Theseus has any fear he’ll be bested. Asterius tells Theseus he would like to watch from the stands, since the view is better, but not the boxes, because they are so on display. Theseus readily agrees and promises that he’ll be found a seat with a good view but a relatively discreet position.

When they arrive at the arena, Theseus speaks thoughtfully with an attendant. (Asterius thinks it may be the same shade who attended Theseus in the prior arena, so apparently they get along well.) The attendant says something, and Theseus nods thoughtfully.

“Well, I trust your judgement!” He turns to Asterius as another shade emerges. “I must go prepare for the fight, but I have been assured you will be cared for! Your seat should be relatively out of view of most spectators and have a good view of the fight. There are a few fights before mine, but supposedly your neighbors will be good company!”

Asterius bids Theseus good luck, and lets himself be led off. He has doubts about the discretion that can be provided his body, or about how good his company will be when they realize they sit beside the minotaur, but in the weeks that have passed he has only grown more curious. His limited circle of acquaintances have all been insistent on the entertainment Theseus brings, and that the fights are rarely brutal or excessively violent unless his opponent is.

And Asterius no longer feels like he... owes Theseus his attendance. But Theseus so clearly enjoys it, and Asterius thinks he’d like to at least try sharing the experience with Theseus, who has always been so generous about sharing joy.

To Asterius’s surprise, the seat is quite discreet. It’s not a box itself, but it’s nestled between two in such a way that it provides the same seclusion. And the two boxes throws the space into slight shadow, which means the spectators across the arena who can see into the niche won’t be able to make much out.

There’s a small gathering of shades in the other seats in the space, and most look up curiously at him, but are preoccupied with platters of fruit and cheese and quickly return their attention there. A wide cushion marks what is clearly Asterius’s space, next to a woman who is so surrounded by cushions herself that there’s a half-barrier between them.

Asterius sits carefully, and the woman looks at him thoughtfully, then smiles gently. She’s tiny, although Asterius knows his own frame of reference is skewed. She’s draped in gold silks that reflect light up against her dark skin, and she leans against the pile of pillows into Asterius’s space as if he doesn’t scare her at all.

“You must be the minotaur. I’m Andromeda.”

“Asterius,” he offers, carefully and gently taking the hand she extends to him. He awkwardly presses a half-kiss to the back of it, mimicking as best he can something he’s seen Theseus do, and her laughter is bright and completely absent of any cruelty.

“Grape?” She offers.

He accepts, if only for something to do. A bell clangs, signaling the start of a fight, and Asterius thinks with discomfort that he should turn to watch, but Andromeda and several of the other shades seem to be ignoring it themselves.

“The attendants must have a sense of humor,” Andromeda says to him. Asterius follows her gaze to watch the attendant who brought him here disappear around the corner of the neighboring box.

“See, my husband is going to be the one up against Theseus.”

“Oh.” Asterius feels awkward, uncertain what he’s supposed to do with that. She waves him off.

“Oh it’s nothing to look so worried about! They’re big boys and they can handle a little disintegration and reformation in the Styx. From what I hear it happens quite frequently, even in training. I can’t see the appeal myself, but it makes Perseus happy, and. Well.”

She leans towards Asterius conspiratorially, and Asterius leans in as if she has some unique gravity.

“I love my husband, truly, but I can’t be around him all the time. But it seems like he doesn’t have the same issue, so if these battles didn’t get him out of my hair he’d be hanging off my arm every moment of the day.”

“Well,” Asterius rumbles, before he can think, “Perhaps that just means you’re the more interesting one.”

She stares at him in shock, and for a moment his stomach plummets, but then she bursts into laughter, head dropping to one of the pillows to muffle the way it turns into snorts.

She pats his arm, and he tries not to flinch. Not many people beside Theseus touch him willingly. No one before Theseus did so kindly.

She beams up at him from between the cushions, and he notes idly that some of her eye makeup has smudged but she doesn’t seem bothered.

“Well,” she says airily, stifling a giggle before adopting a haughty air, “Of _course_ I’m the more interesting one!”

Asterius barely notices that the first several fights pass by while he and Andromeda converse. A few other shades occasionally cut in with idle gossip, or to pass around a new tray of snacks. It’s surprisingly nice, even the few times that loud crowd reactions draw their attention to particularly showy displays in the arena.

Finally however, the fight between Theseus and Perseus arrives, and Andromeda sits up straight. Asterius pushes back the knots of apprehension in his stomach, but takes reassurance in how relaxed she seems, despite her new attention.

“I’ve seen your Theseus in a few fights before, you know. He’s really impressive. Far sharper than he pretends to be.”

“It’s just instinct, isn’t it?” Another shade cuts in, “And muscle memory? He seems like a bit of an airhead. Cute though!”

Andromeda snorts. “He’s a good showman. No one’s that good at being an oblivious natural unless they try.”

If Asterius didn’t already respect her intuition, he would now. It still surprises him sometimes how few people notice that about Theseus, but maybe he only sees it by merit of how much time he spends observing him.

The bell clangs, and Theseus and the shade who must be Perseus square off. Both are carrying shields, and Perseus carries a sword where Theseus has his spear.

When the fight begins, Asterius is, yet again, caught off guard by Theseus’s skill. He makes broad showy sweeps when he can afford them, but each thrust and parry is precise and targeted, and even at this distance Asterius can tell Theseus is watching and cataloging Perseus’s every move.

The fight is only improved by Andromeda’s commentary. For all that she claims not to understand the appeal her husband finds in a fight, she has a sharp eye, and clearly more formal training than Asterius, easily explaining to him things he’d seen, but never understood.

It seems like an even match—Theseus’s spear has greater reach but Perseus’s sword has better mobility when he gets in close, and both have a masterful handle of their shields, barely taking a single scratch. Then Theseus swings his spear in a sharp arc, Perseus leaps back... and takes to the air.

A gasp goes up around the arena. Andromeda sighs and puts her head in her hands.

“You cheat!” Theseus cries, loud enough to echo through the arena. “You ignoble fiend! You would borrow a gift from the gods to avoid an honorable battle!”

Asterius stares, bewildered, but around him the stands are erupting in laughter or noises of delight and encouragement.

“We reside in Elysium!” Perseus counters, “We all dwell here under the blessings of the gods! Don’t blame me for being beloved enough that a god would loan me a gift in this fight! Jealousy is ugly, Theseus, king of Athens!”

Theseus scowls so severely its visible even in the highest stands. It’s so clearly exaggerated that it soothes whatever confusion and anxiety has been blooming in Asterius’s chest.

“My husband is an idiot,” Andromeda sighs. “I can’t believe he’d petition Hermes’s help for something this trivial. I can’t believe Hermes would loan him those damn sandals again.”

Asterius can’t help but laugh. It’s a combination of her fond exasperation, and the dramatic show from Theseus, and the bizarre comedy of seeing Perseus hovering above Theseus’s head.

Andromeda sighs again and sits back.

“Your Theseus has only been going easy on him because it makes for a better show to have them start evenly matched. I’m not sure what Perseus expects will happen when he complicates things like this.”

“Theseus has been going easy on him?”

“Oh, surely!”

Theseus and Perseus’s taunts come to a head below them. Perseus flies such a distance away that there’s not even an illusion that Theseus could reach him, even with the length of his spear. Theseus drops his shield, clattering noisily on the ground. The entire arena gasps (Asterius, admittedly, included).

“Is that forfeit, Theseus?” Perseus shouts.

Theseus braces his feet wide.

“Never!”

And then he hurls his spear across the entire length of the arena, slamming square into Perseus’s chest.

Perseus disintegrates into light. The crowd erupts into cheers. Asterius’s stomach drops for a moment at the splatter of blood and the way Perseus’s body plummets before it fully disappears, but before the disgust and fear fully settles in he’s startled by Andromeda’s laughter beside him.

He turns, slowly, in shock.

“ _Gods_ my husband is so stupid. He has strong muscles and blessings of the gods and he thinks he can use that to brute force his way through anything.”

She smothers more laughter by shoving a wedge of soft cheese in her mouth.

“He’s going to be so mad when he reincorporates.”

“Theseus just killed your husband,” Asterius says slowly, puzzling out her reaction.

“That was always going to happen! My husband was just dumb enough to make it embarrassing for himself. You should introduce me to your Theseus, by the way! I’d like to congratulate him. And I’m curious how far his braggart idiot persona goes. Does he carry on like that all the time?”

“Not always. Mostly.” Asterius is caught off guard enough to be honest.

“Oh that’s insufferable,” Andromeda laughs. “Oh! He must know you’re seated up here!”

Asterius looks down to see Theseus staring up towards them in the stands. He surely can’t see anything through the shadow and the distance, but Asterius recognizes the look on his face. His arms are upraised and he’s beaming and shouting thanks to the crowd, but his eyes are quiet and searching.

When Asterius and Andromeda finally make their way through the crowd after a few follow-up fights, Perseus has apparently returned. And even though Asterius knew such things happened, it’s still a shock to see Perseus, who had been dead not ten minutes ago, squawking as he jabs a finger into Theseus’s chest. Theseus’s nose is turned up and he’s huffing out convoluted insults in return.

Andromeda sighs from her spot next to Asterius. She’d looped her arm in his, despite the awkwardness of their height difference, and Asterius is still a little off kilter at how relaxed and easy she is in touching him.

Theseus catches sight of them, and he blinks, going oddly quiet. Perseus turns as well, and then beams, running over to Andromeda. Theseus’s expression turns into a vague amused confusion.

“Andromeda, darling, did—!“

“That was embarrassing Perseus,” she admonishes gently as she kisses his cheek. “You have a shield, what were you doing with it! It’s not for show! You were far enough that even a throw that impressive should’ve given you ample time.”

As Perseus splutters, Asterius begins introductions.

“Theseus, this is lady Andromeda, Perseus’s wife. We were seated together and she made the experience far more enjoyable.”

Theseus beams at her.

“It is a pleasure to meet you! Thank you for keeping Asterius company! I am glad to hear you are far superior in charm and intellect compared to your husband! I am not sure even Asterius’s boundless patience and kindness could tolerate sitting next to one as dull as he! Not to cast aspersions on your taste, as I am sure you have very good reasons! But—“

Andromeda snorts, turning to Asterius as Theseus continues to blabber.

“You weren’t kidding, he really doesn’t shut this off.”

Asterius shrugs gently, but she reads the smile in his body language easily.

“This was lovely though, if you ever want company, at a fight, or for drinks, or dinner or anything at all, I’d love to spend more time with you.”

“I would like that as well, Lady Andromeda.”

* * *

Asterius didn’t realize how popular Theseus had been getting in the arena, but Theseus is inundated with shades begging for a chance to talk, or buy him a drink, or lavish him with praise. Theseus politely, (though loudly and boisterously,) turns them all down, only to turn to Asterius and ask if he’d like to eat dinner, provided he had not filled up on food with Andromeda.

They retire to a quiet cliff overlooking the sprawl of Elysium, and Elysium provides them with a spread of bread and cheese and warm vegetables. Theseus lays back in the soft bed of flowers, and listens to Asterius as he relays some of his conversations with Andromeda. It’s unusual that Asterius is the one to fill the space with conversation, although it has been growing more common as he finds shades in Elysium to spend time with. And Theseus is not a quiet listener, but he is an attentive one, asking questions and offering his own thoughts and suggesting tangents.

Finally, when it becomes apparent that Theseus will not outright ask Asterius what he thought of the fight, Asterius offers.

“That was an impressive fight, my king.”

“Ah! I am glad you think so, as I would hate to disappoint, but I think that wretch Perseus was disappointingly mediocre! It served the purposes I wished, though I admit part of me wishes I had an opponent that would allow me to show off more!”

“Your purposes, my king?”

“Ah. Well.” Theseus seems a little flustered, but it’s hard to read his expression through the tall grass. “You asked for a fight that would not be too bloody or gruesome, and Perseus almost always fights with a shield. I have alternated between using one in my fights, but if we both wielded them, it is unlikely either of us would get very hurt unless I pushed. Which I did not intend to! And—“

Theseus’s loud voice falters just a minute.

“I did not want to lose in front of you! A close match would introduce too many variables I could not control, so I admit I chose an opponent that was a little safe!”

Asterius laughs at the thought that Theseus, who always talks about choosing the toughest opponents he can find to hone himself, instead picked an easy fight so he could win comfortably in front of Asterius. The part where that also meant he could prevent a bloody fight that would distress Asterius, leaves him with a warm feeling.

“Well, my king, you were quite impressive, and I think I would not be opposed to spectating again.”

Theseus sits up and his eyes are wide.

“You mean that, Asterius?”

“I do.”

Theseus beams like a child given a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda hours. Yes, I did use this fic as an excuse to write their first meeting, and yes we will see a good deal more of Andromeda and Perseus because it was super fun using them as a sounding board to develop Theseus and Asterius. Also I've admittedly gotten Attached to them.


End file.
